


thoughts that keep me on my feet

by only_because3



Series: thoughts that keep me on my feet [2]
Category: Glee
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-12
Updated: 2012-11-12
Packaged: 2017-11-18 13:17:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/561487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/only_because3/pseuds/only_because3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She’d known that Rachel had a daughter but she doesn’t think she’s ever seen a picture of her. The young woman's hair is cropped close to her face, the color a shade or two darker than Quinn remembers Rachel's. But her eyes... Those are Rachel's eyes. The shape, the color, the sadness... Quinn clears her throat.</p>
            </blockquote>





	thoughts that keep me on my feet

**Author's Note:**

> This literally popped into my mind when I was in the shower the other night. I think I might make a companion piece to this either today or maybe in the near future, set in the time Quinn talks about in this story. Anyway, enjoy!

Rachel Berry's funeral is nothing short of spectacular. It's in the papers, it's on the news, Broadway goes dark for the day. The cemetery is filled with people (she'll hear later on that there were complaints about the amount of attendants) and the funeral progression had traffic backed up for blocks.

Quinn didn't make it to see the service. She actually didn't even make it that day. It's not until two days afterwards that she makes it to the grave. She had hoped to be there alone, or at least able to wait it out until whatever mourners were there left, which is why her bag is filled with papers that need to be graded and a well worn book she's had since high school.

She sits on a bench nearby and passes the time grading, wasting an hour and a half. The person in front of Rachel's grave hasn't moved at all and Quinn notices the huge bag next to the headstone. It seems like they have the same idea Quinn did. Shoving the rest of her essays back in her bag, she debates just leaving. The thought of paying her respects under the scrutiny of someone's eyes makes her skin crawl but Quinn knows if she leaves now, she'll never come back.

Squaring her shoulders, Quinn walks over to Rachel's grave. She only stumbles once, her wedges sinking awkwardly into the soft grass, but she keeps her head held high even though she can feel her cheeks warm in embarrassment. Quinn stays far enough back as to not intrude on the other person's space but they turn to look at her anyway.

"Who are you?"

Quinn's eyes widen before her brow lowers. "I don't think I have to answer that." Her eyes flick over to Rachel's headstone, naturally in the shape of a star, and swallows thickly. "I promise I'll be gone soon."

"With all due respect, I'd like to be left with my mom in peace." Quinn's eyes snap back to the form in front of her. She’d known that Rachel had a daughter but she doesn’t think she’s ever seen a picture of her. The young woman's hair is cropped close to her face, the color a shade or two darker than Quinn remembers Rachel's. But her eyes... Those are Rachel's eyes. The shape, the color, the sadness... Quinn clears her throat.

"You look a lot like her," Quinn says softly before shrugging just so. "But I bet you've heard that your entire life."

Rachel's daughter inspects her with a gaze that reminds Quinn more of herself than Rachel. "Who are you?"

"I knew your mother in high school." Rachel's daughter continues to just stare at her and Quinn wonders if she should continue but then realizes that there isn't much more she could say.

"A lot of different people have claimed to know my mom in high school."

Quinn rolls her eyes. "Your mother's room in Lima had to be soundproofed because the neighbors complained about her singing. In the basement of that house, the one that was converted into an entertainment space, has a stain right at the base of the stairs." The wind blows Quinn's graying hair into her eyes and she tucks her carefully behind her ear. "Actually, I suppose your grandfathers could have changed the carpet... But there was a stain at the base of the stairs and I know because my friend put it there during a party at your mother's." Rachel's daughter is looking at her like she's crazy and that's not surprising. "How much do you know about your mom's high school experience?"

"I know she was bullied for two years... Towards the end it got good. She had a boyfriend who was okay, I guess." She shrugs. "Why?"

"If your mom had secrets, I didn't want to give them away," Quinn answers, hiking her bag higher on to her shoulder. "I got into a car accident our senior year. I've been told that your mom dropped everything she was doing when she found out and when I came out of a coma, the four people in my room was my mother, the doctor, my ex boyfriend, and your mom." Quinn licks her lips, her hand tightening around the strap of her bag. "I was horrible to your mom for a very long time but she never-" Her voice cracks and Quinn lets out a breath, shaking her head. "Your mother taught me what it meant to be a good human being." Even though the headstone is in the shape of a star, it doesn't feel like enough... Though Quinn's come to realize throughout her life that nothing is enough when it comes to Rachel Berry.

"Why didn't you come to the funeral? If my mom really did all that-"

"I've always worked best with your mom when it was just the two of us." Quinn dips her head and turns to walk back to her car when the younger woman's voice rings loud for the first time all day.

"Mint chocolate." Quinn glances over her shoulder as Rachel's daughter stands up. "You smell like mint chocolate."

Quinn nods and faces Rachel's daughter once more. "I thought it was only fitting."

For the first time, the other girl's face softens and her bottom lip gets trapped between her teeth. "I don't..." She takes a deep breath. "How?"

"It's what I remember most about her," Quinn says simply. "The only time I was in your mother's loft in Bushwick, I was reading _Like_ on her bed while she took a shower. I always thought it was funny that in interviews, she'd say her go to shower song was a Streisand song when really, it was Karma Chameleon." The brunette's eyes widen almost comically. Quinn scratches the back of her head, doing her best to fight the quirk of her lips. "She'd always vaguely smelled like a girl scout cookie, ever since I knew her. But it wasn't until she came out of the shower then that I could place it... Mint chocolate. It was overwhelming."

The brunette nods, playing with the hem of her flannel button up. "I'm sorry for being so insolent. You... You can stay if you'd like."

Quinn shakes her head. "I should be going. It was nice to meet you..."

She takes a step forward and presents her hand. "Lucy."

It feels like a punch in the gut but Quinn has had 40 years to perfect her mask. "Lucy." She forces a normal smile and shakes Lucy's hand firmly.

"It was nice to meet you, Lucy."


End file.
